God's Lost Child
by KolKolKol
Summary: Mello believes Matt has died, and is determined to get revenge on his murderers. But he is soon joined by a slightly-transparent, familiar redhead. Will contain lemon later.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, normally I'm not really one for angst, but I thought it was time for something serious. Or, well, semi-serious. **

**This is sorta-kinda an AU, in that the timeline is a little effed up. You'll see what I mean.**

**Warnings for: Spoilers of Matt's name, and pretty much some of the ending, including who dies and whatever. **

**I don't own Death Note. If I did, well, it wouldn't be appropriate for anyone under 18. Showers would need to be on-hand for all watchers. Anyhow...  
**

"I'm sorry," Mello muttered. He was sitting in the drying dead grass, arms wrapped around his knees as protection against the harsh autumn breeze. Dark gold leaves blew around him, falling steadily from surrounding ash trees. There were no bird calls, as there were in summertime, and the only noise was the far-away swish of the wind. In the distance, a black wrought-iron gate marked an end to the expanse of browning grass and a beginning to a thin gravel pathway. The sun could barely shine past the thick ash trees, and only very few slim rays could break through, bouncing off Mello's blond hair. Beside the man was a patch of ground, only ever so slightly raised, blanketed with the fallen teardrop-shaped leaves. The headstone at the front of it stood without any wear yet, only a leaf or two adorning the top. _Mail Jeevas_ was etched into the stone, 1990-2010 just below it.

Mello idly picked a few of the leaves off and tossed them to the side, gazing at his old friend's name on the gravestone. He sighed and rested his head on his arms, blinking absently across the graveyard. It all looked slightly blurry to his unfocused eyes, just a dark tawny ground with gray spots scattered throughout.

When he felt that the blurriness was starting to be caused by tears, he picked his head up and shook it, blinking them away. Mello looked back to Matt's grave, still blinking, knees hugged tightly to his chest, burying the lower half of his face in his sleeve. This was as close as he let himself get to outward grief in the few days that his best friend had been dead. No one he knew was aware that he still came here - there hadn't been many people at Matt's secluded funeral, anyway. As far as anyone knew, he was still on the hunt for Kira 24/7.

When L had died, it was different. Sure, Mello respected him, but he'd met him all of a few times, and that was just when he was a little kid. L had been a role model, a sort of invisible father figure in a way. But nothing much more. His death was a shock, yes, and Mello had certainly felt some remorse for him. L was, after all, what Mello's life had been about; being a copy of the world's greatest detective. But when L died, Mello hadn't been extremely affected, emotionally. He'd gotten over the initial shock and worked his ass off to beat Near, just like always.

Now, this wasn't just someone he looked up to. Matt hadn't been invisible. Matt hadn't met Mello but twice, never more. Matt had cared. Matt had been at Wammy's since Mello could remember. They grew up together, in an odd way. They were like brothers. Brothers, best friends...lovers. Mello could still remember his lover perfectly, in every detail.

Even after Mello had left, left Wammy's and left Matt, the redhead still managed to track him down after all those years. He remembered how Matt had stared, green eyes tinted with a light orange from his goggles, unsure whether it was Mello or not. He remembered how the man had laughed and cried with him, hugging him tightly, forcing him to swear never to leave again. Mello had promised wholeheartedly, burying his face in his lover's red hair.

He remembered the silly spats they had over Matt's damn cigarettes - Mello may have been an ex-Mafia boss, but he hated that smell. It seemed to cling everywhere; Matt's clothes, his hair, everywhere he'd been. Oddly, everywhere except his mouth, which Mello had always been thankful for when he kissed him. He remembered Matt's emerald green eyes, beautiful if the redhead would ever take them off for a moment. That had always taken some coaxing on Mello's part, bribing sometimes. But it was always worth it if just to see his lover's eyes. They revealed so much about him, yet his his every thought. He remembered Matt's laugh, his smile, the very way he moved.

Now, that was all he had. Memories. Memories which would forever be marred by more recent ones. In his mind, there were two Matts. The alive one he remembered; stubborn, laid-back, slightly quiet, beautiful Matt. His video-game addict, who could only be torn away from his virtual world for his duties in the real one, and whenever Mello felt he should remind his lover where he was, in as physical a way as possible. The one who cooled him off when Mello got too overworked, the one whose bright eyes and angelic smirk could make even Mello grin. The one who had been with Mello all his life; first as a roommate, then a brother, then his lover.

And then there was the other Matt. The Matt that Mello had found dead on the cold ground, covered in blood, curled up on his side, goggles cracked in one lens. The Matt whose final moments in life had been spent carrying out _Mello's_ plan, and whose final actions had been saving _Mello_. The one whose eyes no longer shined behind closed lids, who would never give another smile, who would never kiss Mello ever again. The one who was buried in the ground, right beside where Mello was sitting now.

"I'm sorry," Mello murmured again, biting his lip hard to keep from letting the tears spill over.

_It was my fault._

_He_ was the one who told Matt to distract the guards, _he_ was the one who left his lover to fend for himself, and _he_ was the one who had gotten his lover killed. It was his fault, it was all his fault. Mello buried his head entirely in his arms, leaning against Matt's cold headstone.

Before Mello had run to his position, waiting for Takada's bodyguards to be distracted, he had clapped Matt on the shoulder encouragingly, grinning at him. Matt had smiled tentatively and embraced Mello lightly. It was almost as if he knew it was the last moment he would ever have with him. Mello promised him, "It's all right; we'll be fine."

But it wasn't all right, and they weren't fine. Matt was as far away from fine as you could get, and Mello...Mello was broken. The day after Matt's funeral, Mello had sped off on his motorcycle, exceeding the speed limit by nearly thirty miles an hour. All he saw was crimson, reminding him of the same color Matt's skin had been covered in, and this only fueled his fire further. In a blind rage, he had done positively every destructive thing he could do, and had finally collapsed on his knees in the apartment he and Matt had shared, shoulders shaking with grief and rage.

That was the last time he would cry, Mello promised himself. Not because he couldn't be the next L if he showed his emotions like that - no, that world was far away to him. He just couldn't bring himself to break down like that. He had to have his self-control, more than he had ever had. If he didn't have that, he had nothing. Matt had been taken away from him, and having a breakdown next to his grave would be his undoing. It had been all he could do to stop taking out his gun and pondering it; he could practically picture Matt swatting his arm away, chastising him, "The fuck are you doing, Mello? Just stop that, you moron."

Now, Mello would have done positively _anything_ to hear those words.

Mello finally picked his head up and looked back at Matt's grave. Unconsciously, he fingered the rosary around his neck.

Mello had never been extremely religious - it was more of a need than a belief. When you lived a life like you did in Wammy's, you tended to be either one of three things: severely depressed (like A), disown all emotions (like L or Near), or trust that there was a higher power who had plans for you. Maybe it wasn't all worthless. Maybe there was a reason for all this. He rarely prayed; the rosary was really just for reassurance. In Wammy's, it wasn't an uncommon thing, but Mello was the one who expressed it the most. Nobody teased. Everyone understood.

But not anymore. There could be no reason,_ absolutely none whatsoever,_ for Matt's brutal murder, Mello thought savagely.

He carefully, almost reverentially, lifted the rosary off his neck and coiled it up, a heavy metal crucifix resting on top of a pile of black and red beads. Mello placed it slowly at the base of Matt's gravestone and got up, not bothering to brush the leaves and twigs from his pants.

_I'll kill Takada if it's the last thing I do_, Mello thought.

"I promise," he whispered as he crossed under the iron archway, out of the cemetery.

"Goodbye, Matt."

**A/N: Reviews would be lovely. ...Do I write even semi-good angst? I'ono, I've never actually written it before; I try to stay away from angst because my therapist doesn't want me depressed again. *shrug* Well, I'd love feedback. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello, all! Yeah, well, this story was originally a one-shot, but I decided to make it into a story. WITH ACTUAL CHAPTERS. ...Well, yeah. Please review, because it's my first time writing angst. ^^**

**We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey. ~Kenji Miyazawa**

_"I'm just afraid you're going to leave all over again," Matt murmured softly, purposely not meeting Mello's eyes. The blond smiled gently and kissed his lover, pushing red unkempt hair out of his eyes._

_"I might," Mello admitted. "But if I do, you're coming with."_

_"Promise?" Matt asked, leaning his head on the blond's shoulder. Mello nodded and held Matt close._

_"I promise," he murmured into soft red hair. He could feel Matt smile against his skin as his lover drifted off to sleep. He grinned; for once, everything was perfect. Nobody trying to kill them, no Near making his creepy remarks..._

_And then everything changed. Now, Mello was on his bike, speeding up and down alleyways. He wasn't in their apartment in England anymore, now he was in Japan. Confused, he took a left turn, almost automatically, like his body knew where he was going but his mind was unaware._

_Mello hurriedly stopped the bike and leaped off, not bothering to set up the kickstand as he ran toward the body of his best friend. Now, he had control over his actions, now that he knew what he was doing, and he knelt down beside his friend, not caring to check if Takada's bodyguards were still present. All that mattered was Matt._

_His green eyes were still protected by his goggles, though one of the orange-tinted lenses had cracked. His vest was stained in blood that pooled out from the circular holes that riddled it. Matt was curled up on his side, lying in the pools of his own blood that were still being fed by Matt's wounds._

_Mello forcefully put his hand over one of the wounds, futilely trying to stop the bleeding, but he knew it was useless. Matt was already gone. The blond sat back on his knees, not caring that Matt's blood was on his hands as he anxiously ran them through his hair, lips parted in a silent scream of agony._

Mello's eyes shot open as he sat up, startled. He looked around in confusion for a moment before he realized that he was back in his apartment, back in England again.

_It's all right, just another dream, _he told himself as he took a deep breath, shaking his head to clear it.

It had been two weeks since Matt had died. Mello had been tortured with those same dreams every night. Dreams of when Matt had been alive, of when all that had mattered was them being together. Then they always changed, forcing Mello to watch over and over again as he failed to save his friend's life.

Before Mello gotten to Matt, he had been sure he was dead. Now, he supposed he just fainted or some stupid shit like that; he couldn't have survived a heart attack from Kira. He remembered falling to the ground, vision pitching into blackness, and then opened his eyes just in time to see Takada racing away. He chose Matt over her, grabbing at the headphone that had fallen to the ground. Matt wouldn't respond, and Mello jumped on his bike and started speeding down random alleys, hoping against hope that his partner would still be there when he arrived.

_I wish it had been a heart attack,_ Mello thought grimly. If it had been a real heart attack, not whatever the fuck had really happened, he wouldn't have had to find Matt's body. He wouldn't have had to know that his lover was dead. And he wouldn't have to live the rest of his life knowing that the redhead had died because of his plan.

In truth, Mello wasn't quite suicidal. If he had been, he would've been gone in a heartbeat - he had all the resources, all the equipment. He'd spent minutes just staring down the barrel of his gun, wondering about it. But he knew Matt wouldn't have wanted him to just off himself. So he made a deal - yes, Mello made a deal with someone who was no longer living.

He'd kill Takada, that was his promise to Matt. He'd find the bitch, kill her, and if he could, he'd off those guards, too - they were, after all, the ones who directly killed Matt. Then, after they were dead, Mello promised himself that he'd die, too. If he killed them, he'd not only avenge Matt, but another Kira would be gone, too. If Kira wasn't alive, and neither were L or Matt, what else was there for Mello to live for? He supposed that he could've gone back to the Mafia, but it just wasn't as good there. The guys there were pretty accepting of him - after all, Mello had numerous resources to satisfy them - although they started wigging out when they found that Mello had been with a guy.

He'd pistol-whipped the one idiot who'd been stupid enough to mention it.

But other than that, there was really nothing Mello had worth sticking around for. And as far as he was concerned, Near would probably die at the hands of Kira, anyhow - it wasn't quite worth enduring Life long enough to watch it happen.

Sighing, Mello ran his hand through his straggly sweat-dampened hair, beginning to calm down from the night's dream. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed and still a little asleep, the blond kicked the closet door open and reached into the back corner, bringing out a cardboard box. It hadn't been taped shut, but the flaps had been stuck together in that way that took Mello a couple tries to assemble. He made an odd little sound when he managed to open the box, kind of like a sigh and a chuckle at the same time.

When Mello had finally returned to the apartment that he and Matt had shared, the first thing he did was throw everything that reminded him of the redhead into the box and stuff it in the back of the closet. Now, he had a sad smile on his lips as he gently picked up the extra set of striped shirt and jeans - Matt only kept one spare set, partly for light traveling, mostly because he was too lazy to wash more than one at a time. Under the clothing was a picture frame, only an inch or so across, but several more inches long. The blond smiled as he remembered when Matt had been bored one day when they were fifteen and dragged Mello halfway across the city to a photo booth.

_"Aw, come on Mells!" Matt pleaded, laughing and smiling widely as he pulled his boyfriend through a crowd of people in the mall. "It'll be fun!"_

_One glance into those sparkling eyes, hidden by goggles and framed by locks of red hair, was all it took for Mello to cave. He allowed himself to be towed into the booth tossing the tattered black-velvet curtain closed after him._

_"Oh, c'mon, don't be like that," Matt said, wrapping his arm around Mello's waist and placing a light kiss on his cheek. "Just have fun!"_

The first of the six panels was more natural, more posed. It was just a snapshot of Matt's childlike smile and Mello's slightly disgruntled expression. But as the pictures advanced, they got more and more relaxed. Matt started fooling around, punching Mello's shoulder and repeatedly telling him to relax. By the third picture, Mello was grinning and had a laughing Matt in a loose headlock. In the final picture, both boys had their arms wrapped around the other and Matt was resting his head on Mello's shoulder. Both were smiling contentedly, eyes shining with happiness.

Mello glanced down into the box when he heard a light thunk. Of course - it was Matt's old DS. He never brought it with him, Mello recalled, to keep it safe. He smirked as he remembered all the times it had come to Mello having to physically stop Matt from playing the thing 24/7.

"God, it feels like it's been forever," Mello murmured, tenderly picking up the game console. Flicking it on, he watched two simple red words light up the screen.

_Game Over._

"No it isn't," Mello said, shutting it off again. The words disappeared. He folded up the jeans and shirt haphazardly and gingerly placed them, the DS, and photos back in the box. "Not yet."

Mello took one last look at it before carefully placing the box back in the closet. He grabbed his coat from the closet and walked swiftly to the front door, throwing it shut behind him without a glance back.

The flight from England to Japan was, all in all, boring. Mello remembered to leave his gun at the apartment, so he wouldn't be tackled by Security - no matter, he had infinite sources through which he could acquire a new one in ten minutes tops. He'd managed to get a row to himself - people hated sitting in the emergency exit rows for fear of concerned stewardesses asking them repeatedly if they were able to "perform necessary actions" should the plane need emergency evacuation. Mello periodically feigned sleep to avoid talking to a stewardess. He spent all of the twelve hour flight mindlessly eating chocolate and staring out the window.

Now, it was almost like he was just going through the motions. Nothing had any real meaning behind it anymore. It was like the grief had dulled everything else, making Mello numb to the world. He wondered if that was going to last very long, then decided that it didn't matter. At least, not for much longer.

When the plane landed, Mello couldn't get off it fast enough. He grabbed his coat from the overhead compartment and pushed his way through the plane's threshold and out of the airport, not even bothering to take a taxi to wherever the hell he was going - mainly because he didn't know, himself. And anyway, a taxi would mean arguing with some idiot driver who wanted to overcharge him to drop him off four blocks away from his destination.

()()()

_This is pointless_, Mello thought grimly.

Since his exit from the airport, Mello had gone to the warehouse where Takada's bodyguards had been. Nothing. He'd scoured the building, interviewed the people who lived nearby, and researched everything he could in the space of the day he'd been in Japan. The only thing he'd brought with him was his laptop, and it had overheated twice just that day from Mello's relentless researching. It was like after Takada's bodyguards had killed Matt, they'd disappeared, as did Takada herself.

Mello leaned against the wall of an abandoned apartment building, sliding down the bricks until he was sitting with his knees held close to his chest, staring at the ground. Those two little red words seemed burned into his eyes, and flashed before him, seemingly etched into the pavement.

_Game over._

"But it's not over," Mello said to himself. "Not yet."

"Like hell it's not," someone said from in front of him.

Mello didn't dare take another breath when he heard that voice. Slowly, he looked up, and was met with ever-so-familiar emerald eyes blinking down at him from under short locks of red hair.

"...Matt?"


	3. Chapter 3

"...Matt?"

_I must be fucked in the head,_ Mello thought.

His redhead smiled sadly as he looked down at Mello. "Heya, Mells," he said softly.

Mello shook his head, closing his eyes. He refused to look up again. _It was just a hallucination . . . just a hallucination. Nothing more. When you look up, it'll be gone_. Mello slowly opened his eyes. Matt was still standing there. The blond moaned and buried his head back in his arms.

Just seeing him there felt like someone was stabbing him in the heart, over and over. And in fact, that's precisely what Mello thought - that God was just screwing with him. It couldn't be Matt. Matt died. And now . . . this was just Mello going crazy. At least, he thought.

"Just go away," he mumbled. "I don't need a hallucination making me feel like shit. Go. Away."

Mello heard nothing. But when he raised his head a little, he didn't see shoes in front of him anymore. He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall, only to spot the image sitting next to him. Mello started and jumped back. Matt smirked.

"Yeah, I didn't really think you'd believe I'm here," he said. "But anyhow, it's about time you got here; I've been waiting for hours."

"...Waiting where?" Mello's curiosity got the best of him, overpowering his common sense telling him that he was conversing with a figment of his imagination, most likely conjured by some sort of insanity. He didn't care at the moment. Though it hurt to 'see' his lover again, it was also comforting, in a way.

"Waiting here," Matt said, as if it were obvious. "I'm not really sure how I got here, but I've been here for a few days. I knew you'd get here eventually."

"Why, though? Explain, dammit," Mello grumbled, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes. The redhead smirked again, and Mello remembered with clarity how Matt would always make fun of him for that. Well, he liked his hair a certain way, so sue him.

"You really think I know?" Matt asked, sighing, a wistful look replacing the friendly smile. "All I remember is getting shot a million times by Takada's guards, and next thing I know, I'm wandering back in this damn alley again."

"But you died!" Mello exclaimed. "You died! I was at your funeral, I remember. Your body is in the dirt back in England."

Matt flinched slightly at the blond's blatancy. "That's probably true, actually. I doubt I'm really alive right now."

Mello snorted. "Well, you're not a fricking zombie."

"No, I'm not," Matt agreed. "Mainly because people can't see me."

Mello stared, taking in the information. "So...nobody can see you?" Matt nodded. "But I can?" Another nod. "Y'know, this isn't really a cogent form of convincing me that you're actually here right know. If only I can see you, I've got to trust just you. And, well, you probably don't exist right now."

"Mells, if I'm anything, I'm a ghost," Matt said.

Mello squinted back at the image of his old friend. "Come to think of it, you do look sort of...transparent. But...no, no, ghosts don't exist. And neither do you," he said.

Matt tilted his head. To him, it sounded more like Mello was trying to convince himself rather than Matt. "Look, I probably don't know any more about this than you do, Mells."

"Stop calling me that," Mello muttered, resting his chin on his knees, which were still pulled up to his chest. He refused to look at Hallucination again, intent on watching a trashcan across the alley from him.

"But why?" Matt asked.

"Because . . . just because."

_Because that's what Matt used to call me,_ Mello thought. Really, he knew that whatever this was, it wasn't Matt. He wasn't a psychologist or any of that shit, but he knew enough to figure out that his mind was probably either broken, or trying to cope by creating Matt again. Most likely the second one, but the first wouldn't have surprised him._ This isn't Matt._ He desperately wished it was, but he had enough common sense to know that Matt wasn't coming back.

Matt seemed to understand that Mello didn't want to talk about it and leaned his head back against the wall, crossing his legs at the ankles. "Well then, what do you want to know?" he asked.

Mello shook his head, wrapping his arms around his knees. "I dunno. Start from the beginning," he ordered.

The redhead sighed again. "I guess the beginning would be when you went off with Takada. You left, I remember, and her bodyguards were everywhere. I had a gun stashed on me, but before I could reach it . . . All I remember is a bunch of really, really loud bangs, a brief flash of pain all over my body, then I just don't remember anything more." Matt's eyes were glazed, trying to remember what had happened after. "I remember I was scared as shit, but I wasn't, you know? I kinda knew I was dead from the moment you left, and I was certain even before I reached for my gun. And it was like slow motion - they were slowed down, but my mind was going a mile a minute.

"I hoped you got back okay. I hoped you were all right. And I hoped you wouldn't do anything too rash once you learned I was dead," Matt said.

"How can you be so cavalier about this?" Mello asked. "You died, yet you seem pretty calm about the whole thing."

"Then you believe me?" Matt asked hopefully, turning wide emerald eyes on the blond; he looked like a little kid asking his mom for a favor he knew she'd never give on ordinary circumstances. Mello shook his head.

"No. You're a hallucination. But I can't seem to make you go away, so I figure I'll just talk to you while I can," Mello said. He looked back down, away from the hurt look the hallucination gave him. Even though it wasn't Matt, it still looked like him.

"Well, no matter. You'll believe me soon enough," Matt guessed, dejected. "But anyhow, cavalier? Well, it's over and done with, isn't it? And, in any case, I'm here again, sort of."

"Yeah, obviously only sort of," Mello reminded both of them. "You're just a hallucination, and my mind knows that, and it's making you say 'sort of' to make it still sort of realistic."

"No, Mello, I say sort of because I'm pretty much a ghost," Matt said, infinitely patient as he ever was. "Remember how I said that nobody but you can see me?"

"Technically you said that people can't see you," Mello said, holding his knees closer to his chest. "You never said anything about it being just me."

"Well, I thought that that was obvious in itself," Matt countered. "But yeah, anyhow. I knew time had passed, but I wasn't sure how much time, or where I had been during that. I just blinked and I was back here again. I was in the middle of the street, and a bus went right through me. That was pretty much when I realized that something was up. So I tested it out, I tried to talk to people and none of them even knew I was there."

"Do you know why you're here?" Mello asked curiously. He felt like he was making it worse, talking to someone who wasn't there, but what else was there to do? It'd been days, and he hadn't caught one hint of Takada. And it was getting late - not like there was much he could do now, anyway.

"Nope, I'm not sure. But I know what happened to you," Matt added. "Do you remember? What happened after you left? Reiterate from when you had Takada in the truck."

Mello's eyes narrowed and he bit his lip thoughtfully. "Uh... Well, we were in the back of his huge truck."

"Yeah, you had to make sure she didn't have a tracker on," Matt said. "I know that. After?"

"How'd you know? You were back with the guards," Mello said. He caught sight of a pigeon hopping down the alley, stopping every so often to peck at food scraps on the ground. When it caught sight of Mello, it flew away.

Matt stopped, tilting his head. "...I'm not sure," he murmured. "Whatever; go on."

"I gave her a bit of privacy, turned around, y'know. But she couldn't have gotten out; I was facing the opening to the truck, and all. But the next thing I know, it felt like my heart was stopping. It hurt like hell, too. I guess I blacked out, and when I got up again, Takada was already too far away for me to get to her."

Matt scoffed disbelievingly, shaking his head and grinning wryly. "You didn't black out," he said, like he didn't believe what he himself was saying. "You died."

Mello was silent, staring at the slightly-translucent version of Matt. "...Bullshit."

"No, Mello, not bull. You died, Takada must've had some Death Note somewhere on her," Matt explained.

"But people can see me," Mello argued. "I'm not see-through, and if I got hit by a bus, I'd probably die. I'm not a . . . ghost, or whatever you claim to be. I couldn't have died."

"You were brought back," Matt told him.

"C'mon, Hallucination, that's crap," Mello said. "We both know it, I'm totally alive. Just . . . Okay, that's enough. The moment my hallucinations start telling me that I died and for some reason I'm still here, that's when I think I need to get out." He put his hands out, as if he was pushing something away from him, stood, and backed up a couple steps, away from Hallucination.

"Mello, stop that," Matt said. "Want me to prove it?"

"Go ahead, prove it," Mello ordered him, the old spark of a good challenge in his eyes. "Prove to me that you're actually here, prove that you're not a hallucination. Do it."

Matt grinned, lightly jumped to his feet, and stepped silently in front of the blond. "Hold out your hand," he said. Mello looked hesitant. "Aw, come on, it's not poison. And anyway, if you're right, it won't be anything at all. If you're right, you won't feel anything."

"No way, we both saw_ A Beautiful Mind_," Mello said. "I could so be like that guy, remember? He thought he could feel that dude and that other chick?"

"Mello, that was a movie."

"Based on a true story."

"Whatever, that's not the point," Matt dismissed. "Give me the hand. Now."

Usually, Mello never would have taken an order from the redhead. Never. But now, what with this being a hallucination, it was basically like he was taking an order from himself. After all, Hallucination was part of his mind, therefore, he was taking his own orders. Mello extended his hand. Matt grinned and reached into his jeans pocket, pulling something out and keeping it concealed in his fist.

Mello's black- and red-beaded rosary was dropped into the blond's hand.

Mello stared, wide-eyed. Matt smiled, only slightly tinged with sadness. His eyes answered all questions Mello had.

"Have a little faith in me."

**A/N: Reviews and suggestions lovely. ^^ Oh, and I don't own _A Beautiful Mind_. Well, I own a DVD of it. It's a good movie.**


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